My heart with fervour while to thee I bow
Athwart the threshold of my fading dream.
XVIII.
For, though so seeming-bold in this my song,
I turn to thee with reverence, in the throng
Of words and thoughts, as shepherds scann'd, afar,
The famed effulgence of that eastern star
Which usher'd in the Crown'd One of the heavens.
XIX.
In dreams of rapture I have seen thee pass